Not Quite The Same (Hiatus)

Chapter Thirteen

The Asset ran. 

He ignored the calls. 

He ignored the burning pain in his wounds. 

He ignored the small voice in his head telling him to turn around. That they can help him. 

He ran. 

He quickly made it to the forest. 

He jumped over a few stray logs.

He sharply turned a corner, hoping to throw them off track. 

He ran and ran until he got to the clearing.

He ran to the burnt house and to his parked motorcycle. 

He hopped on just as someone yelled, "Stiles!" 

He paused and turned to face the speaker. 

Lydia. 

Strawberry blonde. 

Good. 

A friend. 

He paused. 

She stopped about 15 feet away from him. 

"Stiles," she said. 

She was tired.

"Stiles, what's going on?" 

He thought for a moment. 

He didn't know. 

He knew he was running from the Commander, but otherwise? 

He didn't know. 

He shook his head. 

He didn't know how else to respond.

"You don't know?" 

She seemed surprised. 

He shook his head again. 

She licked her lips. 

She was nervous. 

Understandable. 

"Do you know where you are?" 

"Beacon Hills." 

His answer was immediate. 

His voice was raspy and hoarse. 

He hadn't used it in a while. 

She seemed startled by it. 

He didn't blame her. 

"D-Do you know who I am?" 

"Lydia." 

Again, it was immediate. 

She seemed relieved. 

"Do you know who they are?" 

She gestured to the other people behind her. 

His eyes went from her to them and back to her. 

He shook his head. 

Her relieved look fell. 

She swallowed nervously. 

"Do... Do you know who you are?" 

He didn't understand why this was important.

He looked down, anyway, thinking. 

He had been designed to follow orders of any kind, this included. 

He was the Asset. 

The Soldier. 

He had never been anyone else. 

Right? 

He looked back up and shook his head. 

They all looked broken. 

"Do you know where you've been for the last eight years?"

That really depended. 

He looked down and thought. 

"Stiles, do you know where you've been for the last eight years?" 

"Who's Stiles?" 

He looked back up. 

Lydia looked hurt. 

"Y-You are. We can worry about that later, we have to get you back to the hospital--" 

"No." 

Lydia looked confused. 

"'No'? Why?" 

"No hospitals."

"Why not?" 

Because they'd hurt him. 

He didn't say that. 

He just shook his head. 

She sighed. 

"Okay. Look, if you're not going to the hospital, at least let me patch up some of your wounds. They must've opened up." 

She took a few steps towards him. 

He tensed up. 

She noticed and stopped. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you." 

Her voice was quiet, a murmur. 

He blinked then nodded. 

She continued to walk towards him. 

She stopped once she was right in front of him. 

Her hand slowly reached out to touch his arm. 

The metal one. 

He flinched as he felt the pressure being applied. 

He couldn't feel her skin, only the pressure she applied on his metal hand. 

She ran her fingers over the panels and ridges, staring at it. 

"Come on. Let's get you inside." 

Her voice was soft and kind. 

He wanted to trust her.

He didn't though. 

He had learned not to trust people easily. 

Not until they gave you a solid reason to. 

He wanted to trust her.

He just couldn't. 

Not yet.